Midnight Indiscretion
by showmaster64x
Summary: Ambitious nobles fight for power and influence in the kingdom. The Maoh and his blonde knight find themselves pawns in a game where there can be no victor. Yuuri/Wolfram. Yaoi. Mpreg.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: edited to correct a shit ton of spelling errors. I am nothing without you, my beloved spell-check.

Lately I've had a craving for mpreg, but there are very few anime universes that lend themselves to it. In my opinion Kyo Kara Maoh is perfect for mpreg because the characters aren't human and they already accept homosexual relationships as if they are natural. This eliminates the need to awkwardly explain the mpreg and also eliminates the other characters seeing it as weird or strange.

And so, I find myself writing, once again, for Kyo Kara Maoh. This story has absolutely nothing to do with my other story _**Tainted**_ and I have no idea if I will ever finish either of them. But hey, live in the moment right?

Prologue

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

The Radford palace was strangely vibrant at this hour of the night. Maids gossiped excitedly, guards impatiently stood at their posts, and all who should been asleep were not, feeding into the growing excitement that was bubbling up like a boiling pot of water.

Lamps burned in the office of the current Lord Von Radford, Klaud, as he sat tensely with the current Lord Von Bielefeld, Waltoranna. An open bottle of wine sat between them, untouched.

"I'm afraid this will be a deciding factor in the state of our relationship from now on," Radford said quietly.

"Indeed," answered Bielefeld.

"You deceived me, Walt. I was under the impression that the union of our houses would make us both stronger, but you seem to have a separate agenda."

"Whatever do you mean? I have been nothing but honest."

"So you are claiming you did not foresee this?" Radford said, his anger suddenly showing. "I admit I was blinded in the beginning by your generous offer, but never did I imagine the...destructive power of that little..._harlot!" _he finished in a furious whisper.

"My nephew is not deserving of such obscene language. He has been faithful to your son since they were married."

"That is absolute bullshit and you know it! And his infidelity will be revealed tonight!" Radford all but exploded. He was normally a calm and collected man, revered by his people for his patience and wise decisions but tonight his relaxed demeanor had been thrown out the window. He had been a fool, a COMPLETE fool to have bought into the lies of this blonde devil that sat before him.

He had given Waltoranna the benefit of the doubt coming into this arrangement, but now it was clear that the rumors of his house withstood. The Bielefelds were nothing but lying, cheating cons that knew nothing beyond getting into the beds of superior men and then squandering them of their wealth or power. An infection. A curse. A decrepit creature akin to a succubus. There was nothing good about them.

"You don't argue with me, Walt, because you win either way. You don't need to waste breath denying it. My son and I were nothing but tools in you quest for power."

At last, Waltoranna sighed.

"A marvelous suggestion," he stood, finally downing his glass of wine and running his fingers though his gorgeous blonde hair in a manner that only could entice Klaud's erection, "I tire of this farce. You've played your part well, Klaud, and you will be justly rewarded, but now I shall see to my nephew." He stood and extended his hand. "Come, I am sure you are anxious to see the outcome for yourself. True, I win either way, but you still have a fifty percent chance of this turning out favorably for you as well. Why don't you join me?"

"Vile man, you deserve nothing more than the deepest depth of hell," Radford responded. But despite his words he took the offered hand, enjoying the feel of those delicate fingers, and the soft skin beneath his own.

"You are too kind, Klaud. I assure you we'll be spending eternity there together."

Servants stepped from their path as they strode down the long hall. The moans of a demon in pain drew closer with each step. They entered into the large room, standing out of the way of the scurrying attendants.

"It's nearly time, My Lords," one of the Radford servants whispered to them, "It has been hard for the young Lord Bielefeld but he has weathered through it. If you wish to observe, you may."

The two men went to the bedside. Waltoranna broke away to comfort his nephew. The boy was frightened and his green eyes were tired, tears old and new staining his cheeks. His petite body shook with exhaustion and he was covered in perspiration from the long night. Klaud would have sympathy for him had he not been of the Bielefeld house. Now he could only see a lustful boy deserving of the pain that his sinful body was experiencing.

Klaud Von Radford remained at the foot of the bed, observing the far more important part of the boy. This was to be his only use, after all. Already he could see the crowning of a head covered in dark hair.

"You're doing fantastic, Wolf. Just a little more..." Waltoranna cooed in his nephew's ear, smirking knowingly at Klaud all the while.

The door burst open and an angry young man strode in, his uniform and grey hair still covered in mud and grime, as he took in the situation with his cold, blue eyes. He marched directly toward Klaud.

"You did not think to inform me of this father?" he demanded of the older man, "Did you think I wasn't interested in the birth of my own child?"

"Calm down, boy. You and I both know this isn't your child. Do not try to pretend otherwise," the older Radford responded. He turned back to watching the birth, not giving his son another glance.

The miracle was lost on him as he fixated on the emerging infant's features. It was a cruel way to be brought into the world- under such judging eyes, but it could not be helped. The babe's screams pierced the air after it drew in it's first breath. Clearly a boy, the tiny thing was freed and put in the arms of a maid to clean and towel it. Even the servants could not hide their shocked faces.

The baby was placed in the waiting embrace of the Bielefeld brat while his uncle beamed triumphantly.

"Leave us!" commanded Klaud Von Radford in his authoritative voice., "All of you!" he watched as the servants and healers hesitantly left the room. The elder Radford then turned to his son. "You as well."

"Father!" the boy seethed, "I deserve to be here!"

"OUT!" roared Lord Von Radford. His son scowled deeply, but took his leave all the same, shutting the doors with a jarring slam on his exit. Now, with Radford left with alone with the two Bielefelds, there was the atmosphere of a stand-off.

"Well now, Klaud, I think we all knew how this was going to turn out," the elder Bielefeld was saying. It was hard for Klaud to contain his anger. He was seeing red. His heart pounded in his ears. He drew his sword suddenly, aiming toward Waltoranna Von Bielefeld.

"Give me one good reason..."

"How uncivilized!" Waltoranna scoffed, "Do you even know how to use that instrument?" his voice sounded confident, but Klaud could see that he hadn't thought to bring his own sword.

"I don't need to." He dropped the sword with a loud clang and advanced upon his rival, taking him by the throat and slamming him into the wall. Waltoranna lashed out viciously but Klaud held fast, wrapping his fingers tighter around that pretty neck. In the background, he could hear the protests of the nephew and the crying of the newborn.

"There is no point in resisting," Klaud said harshly to the other lord, "You Bielefelds are useless in combat. Your only talents lie in seduction and worming your way into another's bed. This has never been more apparent than after the events of tonight."

"You...bastard," Waltoranna managed to choke out before slipping into unconsciousness. Klaud let his limp body fall to the floor unceremoniously. Then, he turned to the boy, who hadn't left the bed and was clutching his infant son to him protectively.

"How dare you insult the integrity of my house!" Wolfram spoke, green eyes ablaze. Klaud was surprised he still had so much fight in him after the long, exhausting process of giving birth. "My uncle has nothing to do with this. This was my decision and if you must punish someone, let it be me."

"In due time, son-in-law." Klaude tore the child from Wolfram's fierce grip, watching his green eyes grow wide and fearful.

"Now the question is, what to do with _this..." _the tiny child cried loudly, unaware that his life hung in the balance. There was no way this baby could pass as a Radford or a Bielefeld. There was no question of paternity.

Black hair and black eyes said all that needed to be said.

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

A/N: Alright, so this Radford guy isn't really an OC, he does exist in the anime (i've never read the novels), but I've obviously made up most of his personality, his first name, and the fact that he has a son, but if you want to see him, he's in episode 1 of season three very briefly and also in episode 22 of season three for longer.

Questions, comments, concerns? Drop me a review.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Prepare yourselves for a slightly OOC Yuuri, as he is quite a few years older in this fic. I am a fan of an angsty, independent Yuuri that has full control of his powers. Though I will try to retain some of Yuuri's idiotic charm, I am of the opinion that little Wolfie needs a real man.

Enjoy

Chapter 1

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

"Gunter," Yuuri beckoned his advisor to him as he eyed the party crowd. The silver-haired man leaned discreetly over his king's shoulder to listen. "Who is that noble there?" Yuuri's finger pointed to a particularly striking blonde whose back was facing them. Golden hair fell to his shoulders and shimmered under the light. He wore a red and beige uniform, the style of which Yuuri had never seen on a soldier before.

"Why, Your Majesty," Gunter began with a chuckle, "that would be none other than your former betrothed, Wolfram."

"Wha!" Yuuri's mouth hung agape, "How did I not notice? He looks...he looks fantastic. But why, Gunter, does he wear those colors? I was so used to seeing him in blue."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I was under the impression that you and Wolfram corresponded."

"We...lost touch over the years I suppose. And he hasn't been around in a while. I though he might be too busy."

"He has been. As you can see, he now commands the combined Radford-Bielefeld cavalry and since his marriage, I daresay there has been much work to do in ensuring a seamless union of the two houses."

Yuuri's heart stopped.

"Marriage?" he repeated, "Why wasn't I informed of this!"

"You were. You gave your approval in the form of a signature-"

"You know very well that I don't read every piece of paper that comes under my nose!" Yuuri interrupted hotly. "Am I not important enough to know these things? What about the ceremony?"

"There was no ceremony, Your Majesty. You see, this arrangement was less of a marriage than a business dealing."

"So Wolfram doesn't even love this woman?"

"I can't say whether Wolfram has feelings for his husband or not, but as you know, the Bielefelds were in a bit of a tight spot and Wolfram was a prime candidate for the marriage. He is young, he is beautiful, and he has connections with the king."

_He is beautiful_, Yuuri thought absently, watching Wolfram throw back his head and laugh at some gossip that was whispered in his ear.

"And I know you don't like me saying this, Your Majesty, but it would do you good to follow his example and wed someone who will help stabilize your rule," Gunter told him with a sigh.

"If I marry, Gunter, it will be for love and only love."

"Then for the sake of the kingdom, I pray that you find your love soon."

"I can't make any promises," Yuuri answered, pouring himself some wine with his eyes still following the captivating, blonde soldier.

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

"Wolfram! It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Wolfram had turned around stiffly after hearing his king's voice. Black eyes were upon him, with perhaps a hint of mischief dancing in them. In the king's hand were two glasses of wine. One was offered to Wolfram.

"…It has…Your Majesty."

The blonde scanned the surrounding party guests for an excuse to leave. His heart pounded rapidly. He hadn't seen Yuuri in ages and the pain in his chest that had faded to a dull ache suddenly returned full force.

"Excuse me, Your Majesty," he began with a small bow, "I believe my mother is looking for me."

"I doubt that," came Yuuri's ready reply as he shoved a glass into Wolfram's hand, "She left hours ago with that good-looking earl." The party had barely begun and Yuuri's speech was already slurred. Perhaps large gatherings still made him nervous and only alcohol could give him the courage to mingle with the guests.

"Well, Gwendal-"

"Is distracted with matters of the state. He's not even here tonight. I'm starting to think you are avoiding me, Wolf."

"Of course not, Your Majesty," Wolfram replied, his brow furrowing in frustration. If he did not manage an escape soon, there would be a problem. Yuuri drained his glass and grabbed him suddenly by the wrist.

"Then dance with me."

Wolfram was led unto the heavily populated dance-floor where a common dance was being performed by the party goers. Yuuri's hand slid down his back and he shivered.

"Your Majesty-"

"Yuuri," the king corrected, "Use my name like you used to."

"That would imply a level of intimacy that no longer exists between us," Wolfram told him flatly. Yuuri was not to be deterred. He pressed their bodies together, lowering Wolfram into a dip. In the years that had passed, Yuuri had gained a few inches to his height. Wolfram was forced to tilt his head up to meet his king's eyes. He sighed heavily at the man's enthusiasm and relinquished all control. Resting his head upon Yuuri's chest, he let the skilled minstrels carry him away with their melancholy tune, falling calmly into the familiar steps.

Around him, colors swirled as he focused on nothing in particular. Echoing in his ears was a medley of voices and music, high fluttery laughs from the ladies and loud booming ones from the gentlemen. He breathed the pleasant aroma of his king's cologne. It wasn't long before his eyes began to feel heavy.

"What is this bruise, Wolf?" Yuuri asked softly, his fingers stroking the discoloration on his partner's jaw.

"It is nothing worthy of your concern," answered Wolfram.

"Did he hit you?"

"He would never."

"Then, what is it from?"

"I cannot recall," Wolfram responded impatiently. Yuuri had no right asking him such personal questions when they barely even spoke anymore, but it would be rude to say such a thing to his king.

"Is there something wrong, Your Majesty?" came a stranger's cool voice. Their dance was broken suddenly by a young man of Yuuri's height, stocky build, and grey hair pulled into a ponytail. He wore a uniform similar to Wolfram's own. His eyes strayed to Yuuri's fingers still upon Wolfram's upper neck.

"Yes there is, as a matter of fact. Ah...Dieter...is it?"

"Dieter Von Radford, at your service," the man answered, barely disguising the contempt from his voice.

"Right. Well, Dieter perhaps you can explain to me this mark upon your husband's skin. He seems to not remember acquiring it," Yuuri said. Dieter's eyes drifted lazily over to Wolfram, who turned away with a scowl.

"I believe he acquired that bruise last night when I made passionate love to him. Surely this is not a problem. Such a thing is expected when married. And Wolfram does recall, he was simply too embarrassed to divulge such a private thing to His Majesty. You must forgive him," At this, the man snaked his arm around Wolfram's waist and drew the blonde to himself.

Yuuri was not amused. Not quite the foolish boy he had once been, he at least now knew when he was being made to look like an idiot. Wolfram was mildly impressed with both his deduction and his reaction.

"Very well," Yuuri said with narrowed eyes, "I apologize for the embarrassment. However, in the future, I ask that you don't leave questionable marks upon my good friend. It has caused me great alarm."

"I shall keep that in mind, Your Majesty," Dieter answered. Yuuri nodded, seemingly satisfied, before turning away and returning to his other guests.

His eyes, not leaving the retreating back of his king, Wolfram spoke through gritted teeth.

"May I have a word with you in private, _dear husband_?"

"You may have more than a word," his husband answered, already leading the way out onto the balcony. Stars shone brightly in the evening sky. A chilly wind hit the two men as soon as they stepped outside.

"Just what possessed you to tell him something like that!" Wolfram snarled as soon as they were out of earshot of the others, "You know this bruise is from where my horse kicked me."

"It was worth it to see his reaction. He needs to learn that you are no longer his and that I can do with you what I wish."

"I do not belong to you."

"Legally, you do. Let us not forget the binding contract you signed."

Wolfram shut his mouth, his expression going cold.

"I'm going to bed. Do not follow me."

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

Sleep was difficult to come by that night. Wolfram tossed and turned as if he had drank too much tea before bed. The fire burning in the fireplace made the room rather hot and both sides of the pillow seemed equally uncomfortable. The loud snoring from the other end of the bed certainly didn't help. The night was half gone by the time Wolfram decided to give up and make for the baths. He crept out of the room silently as he could, bare feet meeting relief upon cool stone. The hall was drafty and the wind whispered through the long corridor.

Wolfram found the bathroom in his wing to be drained and not yet prepped for morning usage. Loathe to use the baths located in the servants' quarters, Wolfram turned instead to the Maoh's personal bath. Surely Yuuri wouldn't be needing it at this hour. Upon reaching the door, Wolfram heard singing from inside. Slowly he pushed it open and allowed his eyes to adjust to the warm, steam-filled interior. Yuuri was sitting in the bath, reciting a song that Wolfram had never heard before. His voice was quite awful, but it was keeping him occupied enough to allow Wolfram a closer peek.

His king was a boy no longer, Wolfram noted with newfound curiosity. His eyes enviously strayed to Yuuri's biceps and pectorals. Though partly submerged in the water, he could make out a toned abdomen as well. It was a bit shocking to see Yuuri like this, with such hair and muscle on his body, as the child in Wolfram's memories was so different in comparison. How long had it been since he had seen Yuuri like this? four years? Six? He couldn't remember, but it had been ample time for Yuuri to come into his own.

Wolfram dared to venture closer, leaving his spot behind the pillar. Drawn to the man before him, he didn't notice the bottle of shampoo in his path. It made a loud noise when it toppled over. Yuuri's light singing stopped abruptly.

"Who's there?" Yuuri called out, eyes searching the bathroom. Wolfram knew he would be caught sooner or later so he made himself visible to his king.

"I, Your Majesty," the blonde said, hearing his own voice echo in the chamber, "Forgive me, I didn't want to use the servants' bathroom."

"Wolfram," Yuuri acknowledged with a short laugh, "You scared me for a second! I thought perhaps you were your mother. She likes attempting to seduce me in this bath."

His mother was a scheming one, and this idea seemed rather appealing to Wolfram at the moment. He shook his head. Yuuri continued speaking before Wolfram could formulate a reply.

"Come on in, Wolf. You're always welcome here. We can wash each other's backs like old times."

"I don't recall you ever actually allowing me to wash your back."

"Ha! Oh really? Well, you can tonight, I promise not to run," Yuuri answered with a smile. His eyes were alight with some strange emotion as he stared at Wolfram expectantly, waiting for him to disrobe. Wolfram hesitated for a moment before finally loosening his sash and riding himself of his bathrobe.

Stepping slowly into the hot water, Wolfram could feel Yuuri's eyes on him, heavy –and dare he say it- hungry? He felt himself shiver despite the temperature of the water.

"Turn around, Wolf." Wolfram did so, immediately feeling Yuuri's fingers begin to knead the tired muscles of his back. He sighed.

"I...heard my brothers and Gunter are pushing you to choose a wife," Wolfram said, "In my opinion, Lady Marianna would make a good queen. But then, out of your many female companions I always thought Lady Suzanna to be the kindest and the most beautiful."

"I didn't know you kept up with all of my love interests, Wolf."

"Someone has to watch over you."

"Yes, but it makes me feel terrible that I did not even know until tonight that you were married."

"In all fairness, it was very sudden, and secretive. Humiliating really...for us Bielefelds, broke to the point where only a marriage could save us."

"Do you like him?" Yuuri asked bluntly.

"No," Wolfram responded, unashamed, "but that hardly matters."

Yuuri's fingers stopped their massage and Wolfram suddenly found himself encircled in his king's arms. Yuuri's breath was hot on his neck and all the signs that Wolfram had tried to ignore were all now pointing to the fact that Yuuri wanted him. Very very much.

"Yuuri!" Wolfram began in a scandalized whisper.

"I want to be the one to leave marks on you, Wolf." Hands traveled down Wolfram's chest all the way to his groin and teased his already aching hardness. "Won't you let me?"

Wolfram only moaned in reply, arching into the man that had never returned his feelings. He was married, true, but it would be stupid to pass up something that he wanted so much the pain was agonizing. Who knew? Perhaps this opportunity would never come again. Best make use of it.

The way Yuuri was pressing up against him made him hotter than he'd ever been in his life. He only knew his king to be an innocent, bumbling idiot, and in all his wildest fantasies, only imagined to be the one to take him. The reverse of roles was beyond erotic. He found himself longing to be trapped beneath Yuuri's hard body, waiting to be penetrated by his stiff manhood and fucked into oblivion.

"Please, Yuuri," Wolfram began in a horrified voice, "I want you."

"And I, you, Wolf," Yuuri answered, teeth sinking into the flawless skin of Wolfram's neck, "Let this night be our little secret." At this, Wolfram turned, settling into his king's lap and gazing at him with a longing so intense that not even a god could deny him.

"Let this be our...midnight indiscretion," Wolfram whispered. His lips met Yuuri's as the friction between their bodies began to build. They were already under water. No other lubrication was needed for Yuuri to slip inside. Wolfram gasped, his nails gripping his king's muscular back. It had been far too long since he had last allowed his body this indulgence. Yuuri slid his length in to the hilt and allowed his blonde nymph time to adjust.

Wolfram was suddenly aware that, in the time they had spent apart, Yuuri had greatly expanded his sexual knowledge. He'd had countless partners and he sure as anything knew how to please a lover. This brought up Wolfram's...well...lack of knowledge, as he himself had had very few sexual partners. But for some reason, he found himself even more in love.

"Take me hard, Yuuri. I want to remember this night, I want to remember you, because we both know this may never happen again," Wolfram panted, feeling tears sting the corners of his eyes at the thought.

Yuuri's reply was a thrust of his hips, to which Wolfram responded by spreading his legs and crossing his ankles around the dark-haired man. His arms held his king tightly and he buried his face in the other's neck.

"Oh, Wolf! You're so beautiful. I don't know how I ever let you get away," Yuuri said, hands sliding down to grip his partner's round buttocks as he rocked his lithe body up and down with his harsh love-making.

He was committing a sinful act with the only man he considered worthy of his body. Nothing could be more satisfying. Wolfram gripped the man fiercely, hands fretfully winding into his black hair as he moaned and submitted like the lustful youth he was when it concerned his king. Yuuri's desire for him was driving him mad with happiness, and at the same time his full cock was driving him closer and closer to his release.

Vulgar noises in the bathroom could not be mistaken for anything else but sex, and Wolfram found himself slightly disappointed they were alone. He wanted to make his love for Yuuri known throughout the world. A particularly strong thrust left Wolfram in a daze. A small, whimpering noise was all that was expressed in approval.

Encouraged by Wolfram's voice and responsive body, Yuuri wasn't long in reaching his climax. Feeling Yuuri's hot seed entering deep inside him, and knowing full well what it represented, Wolfram let himself topple into the sweet bliss of release. They were left panting heavily in the steamy bath, tangled in each other's limbs and exhausted like they'd each raced to an Olympic victory.

Bubbles had dissolved. Even through the ripples, all was made bare in the clear water.

"We could have been together, Yuuri. We could have," Wolfram choked through heavy tears.

Yuuri kissed him, cradling his blonde head in his hands.

"We still can, Wolfram."

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

"What is that?"

Wolfram had already been dozing in the carriage, waiting for his husband to finally enter so they could depart. The door opened and Wolfram was staring at the man's angry face.

"What is what?" Wolfram asked him, annoyed.

"This!" Dieter pulled back Wolfram's collar to expose a fresh hickey. Wolfram slapped his hand away.

"That was from your passionate love-making last night, don't you remember?" the blonde replied mockingly. It was obvious what had occurred, and Wolfram couldn't bring himself to care. Dieter snarled.

"I'll see to it that you never return to that castle again. You are mine, Wolfram, and until I am finished with you, I wont be sharing; not even with the king," he said, harshly, taking a seat and slamming the carriage door. Wolfram returned to gazing out the window. Yuuri was in the yard, sending his good-byes to another group of nobles. He turned to gaze to Wolfram's carriage just as it began to leave. He waved jovially, but his eyes...they held the promise of hot nights filled with kisses and tender caresses, of stolen embraces and bodily gropings, of sweet nothings and moans of ecstasy.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Wolfram responded quietly, his lips curling into satisfied smirk.

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.


	3. Chapter 3

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

Wolfram was in a foul mood as he stormed through the halls of the Radford palace. It was a cold castle that could not be warmed by any number of bright paintings on the walls. It wasn't cheerful and welcoming like Covenant Castle, and it wasn't nearly as beautiful as his uncle's palace. It was boring. It was practical. It was perfect for the war-mongering Radfords.

Servant's fled from his path as Wolfram made his way to his husband's study. He threw open the doors angrily, not caring who he disturbed. Dieter did not even look up. He continued to scribble something on the parchment before him.

"Can't you see I'm working?" he began, "I don't have time to entertain you." Wolfram ignored him and launched into his tirade at once.

"Those are my spell-casters you are sending to aid the rebellion in Svelera. I wish to join them."

"You will do no such thing."

"You can't keep me caged in this horrible place."

"I can and I will," Dieter replied tiredly, "You are my husband and you have husbandly duties yet unfulfilled."

"Like what!" Wolfram all but shouted, "I run your house, keep your gardens, and train your soldiers. I've renovated your stables, fired your lazy servants, hired new ones, and built you a ballroom to be proud of. The only thing you are lacking, Dieter, is a crown upon your head, and that is something I cannot do."

"You seem to be forgetting the one thing that any man or woman at your end of the marriage is expected to provide," Dieter stated calmly, still not looking up from his papers. At this, Wolfram blushed ever so slightly and scowled.

"You'd have better luck with the crown, I'm afraid," the blonde spat.

"My father seems to think a child is necessary in order to solidify our marriage. He knows we don't quite get along. Now, you probably couldn't care less, but I would like to inherit this fiefdom someday so I'll give him his heir. If you don't like it, go cry to your uncle."

"Why...you...little!" Wolfram growled furiously, giving up on his insult. That had been the final straw. He could not reason with this man. He turned on his heel and made for the exit.

"I'll see you in bed tonight," Dieter said, returning once again to his paperwork. Wolfram made sure to knock over a shelf of records on his way out.

He took took his horse out that night, riding long and hard so that he could reek of manure and sweat for his husband. They'd had sex before, he and Dieter. Only twice. Once while still at the academy and once on their marriage night. His husband was not a terrible bed partner, but Wolfram's heart had ever belonged to Yuuri and so he often made excuses not to be under the same sheets as Dieter Von Radford.

He knew his ploy had failed when he found his husband waiting for him in the stables. It was very late, probably closer to dawn than midnight. Dieter took his mount by the reins as Wolfram slid from his horse's back.

"Come to bed now. I shall not wait all night for you."

"Surely you can wait a little longer while I bathe," Wolfram told him, quite unhappy to find the man still awake. He hadn't thought Dieter serious enough about this to actually come down to the stables to fetch him.

"Then I will have you on a bed of straw," Dieter said, eyes narrowed dangerously. Stubborn, rebellious rage boiled through Wolfram's veins as he glowered at his husband. He didn't like being given orders by Dieter. They were the same age and were each of noble houses. He couldn't see himself as this man's spouse. In Wolfram's mind they were still boys attending the academy together, hauling their books to class, and sparring with swords under an instructor's watchful eye. They used to be _ equals_...but not anymore.

Wolfram soon found that a bed of straw was a poor substitute for an actual feather bed, and wondered if the stable boys were able to sleep at all through his shrieks and loud protests. If anyone asked him why he was limping the following morning he would tell them he'd been out riding too long the night before.

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

A few weeks later, Wolfram found himself back in Bielefeld, "crying to his uncle" as Dieter so delicately put it. Though there were no tears.

"He is insufferable, Uncle. I can't stand to be in the same room with him for more than five minutes."

"You're being far too dramatic about this, Wolfram. You told me you were infatuated with him back during your years at the academy."

"We were children, Uncle. We used to bully the underclassmen together."

"Good. So just remember those times and I'm sure you can get over this nonsense. Men of noble birth wedding someone they hate is a given if they want to retain their wealth and influence. Perhaps you are just looking at this the wrong way, Wolfram. A child won't be so bad. It will starve off the boredom and loneliness that you are currently feeling."

"A dog could do as much," the younger Bielefeld scoffed. Waltorana sighed and seemed to give upon comforting his nephew.

"Are you regretting your decision?" Waltorana finally asked. His look was concerned and Wolfram knew that the man did actually care, and that if Wolfram was unhappy enough, he would do something about it. Now Wolfram felt guilty.

"No," Wolfram lied, "I did this for the Bielefeld house, even knowing that I'd eventually have to...well... " Wolfram exhaled, "Forgive me, Uncle. I let my frustrations overwhelm me. You are right, I am over reacting."

Waltorana seemed content with this answer. He stood. Wolfram got to his feet as well.

"How long will you be staying, Wolfram?" his uncle asked him, deciding to change the subject.

"As long as I can," Wolfram replied. They walked down the hall toward the dining room where dinner was waiting for them.

"The king's tournament is taking place in a few days," Waltoranna reminded him.

"I know. I am forbidden from attending," Wolfram spat bitterly, "Dieter says he doesn't want me injuring myself, but really he just wants to keep me from seeing Yuuri."

"I would do the same if I were him," Waltoranna answered, "He is cleverer than I thought. Perhaps he shall be the man to tame you after all."

"No one shall _tame _me, Uncle. I am not a horse," Wolfram growled, "If you are not entering the tournament and I am not entering the tournament, who will be representing house Bielefeld?"

"You have several cousins entering the joust, hoping to prove their worth to me. Renald and Leon are among them. Since I have no sons of my own I must name another heir to our lands. Perhaps the man who does the best in the tourney..."

"Renald is only a Bielefeld through his mother and Leon is a bastard, are they the best we have?"

"There's Agna as well."

"Shinou save us! Let me ride, Uncle and I will show them all what a true Bielefeld is capable of!" Wolfram said heatedly.

"But you are not a Bielefeld, Wolfram. Not anymore," his Uncle said coldly, "It's time you realized that. His Majesty as well. Perhaps your absence will remind him that you are married and he will stop sending his love letters _here_."

"Yuuri..." Wolfram bit his lip, suddenly remembering their night in the bath. Nearly two months had gone by since then, but Wolfram had not dared mention it, fearing it had been a one night ordeal. His uncle seemed to have picked up on what had transpired, though Wolfram didn't know how. Perhaps there'd been rumors, perhaps he had watched their exchange on the dance floor. "I didn't know he asked about me. No letter has ever reached me," Wolfram answered.

"I suspect your husband has something to do with that. He knows your feelings concerning the king," Waltoranna slowed his pace and when he next spoke his tones were hushed, "Wolfram," he began slowly, "If His Majesty should take you to bed, do not be afraid to return his affections even though you are now married."

"That would be dishonorable, Uncle," Wolfram replied, fully aware that he'd already committed such a dishonor, and that his uncle knew.

"Lying with the king is never a dishonor," Waltorana said, "If you cannot become the Maoh, then you can do the next best thing."

"I care about Yuuri as a person, not his throne," Wolfram reminded his uncle. He had already done his duty to the Bielefelds. He was reluctant to let Waltorana involve him in any more of his schemes.

"All the better," replied the elder Bielefeld, "You can love the man _and _the king. It works out for all the parties involved."

"Except the Radfords," noted Wolfram, though he did not feel all that sorry.

"A necessary casualty," Waltorana dismissed. The two blondes entered the dining hall and took their seats. "I never thought His Majesty was the jealous type, but it appears that you are more desirable to him now that you are married. Men always want what they can't have and, as a king, there is very little that you can't have."

Servants came in through the kitchen and began serving them food. Uncle and nephew lapsed into silence as they turned their thoughts to the meal before them. They ate without speaking, and when dessert was over, Waltorana stood and placed his napkin on the table.

"I will have a word with Klaud about the situation. I'll tell him you are not ready," the man told Wolfram. The blonde sighed and set down his fork.

"I'd rather you didn't, Uncle. Then he will know I've been whining about his son and think I don't intend to follow through with the agreement. Besides, I doubt there is anything you could say to him to make him change his mind," Wolfram replied. Waltorana chuckled.

"Worry not, nephew. I have ways of bending men to my will." He walked to the door and paused before exiting, "I will be leaving tomorrow for the king's tourney, see that you keep yourself out of any mischief while I'm gone." His smile was sly...knowing...and it made Wolfram realize that he was in need of a new set of armor...and a new shield.

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

Yuuri watched them pass through the gates with a forced smile on his face. It seemed as though he'd just had all these stuffy nobles and knights at his castle. He was sick of playing host to this fickle horde who all just wanted to kiss up to him in the same manner as Stoffel. He was sick of the politics and the lying and the _games_ that these people played with him.

It had all been Gunter's idea, of course. And Yuuri knew from experience that it was best not to argue with Gunter on these types of things. Yuuri knew how to please the peasants...but he had no clue how to please the lords...and pleasing the lords was essential unless he wanted a dagger to slit his throat in the night.

It was a sea of colors. Deep, Bielefeld blue, Voltaire green, Radford red, Christ white. All had their sigils on their banners and there were many many more to come. Yuuri had yet to spot the sky blue of the Wincotts, or the vibrant purple of the Karbelnikoffs, but they'd soon be here as well along with so many other, lesser lords whose names and colors Gunter would no doubt have to remind him of.

"Will Wolfram be coming?" Yuuri asked Conrad, who was standing to his right.

"No, Your Majesty," the taller man answered, "Lord Von Radford has written that Wolfram is ill and will be remaining home until he recovers his strength."

"I see," Yuuri said with a small sigh, "That is unfortunate. I'm sure Wolfram would have done well in the tournament."

"He would have," Conrad agreed, "Wolfram is exceptional when it comes to the joust. He is fearless and has always had a good seat on a horse. His swordsmanship is somewhat lacking, though I am sure he would have entered that as well, if only for a chance to face me."

Yuuri laughed as he conjured up the picture in his head: A Wolfram donned in all his armor, stubbornly proclaiming that he would beat Conrad and show the kingdom that he was Shin Makoku's bravest knight.

"Do you miss him, Your Majesty? Gunter has told me you've written him many letters begging him to come to court."

"And every time I am refused, not by Wolfram, but by his husband. Do you think Wolfram even knows that I've written to him? I do not like this man Dieter." Yuuri said, not bothering to hide the annoyance from his voice. "Don't you miss him, Conrad?"

"I do," the man replied with a small smile, "But Wolfram was ready to move on with his life and do his duty for his house. I had no right to interfere. He may be my younger brother but even younger brothers grow up eventually." Yuuri merely gave an irritated grunt at that.

The day continued on, long and boring. Yuuri never quite understood all of the pomp and ceremony of his lords. Why did they want to hit each other with swords and lances for fun? Yuuri would have much rather been hosting a baseball tournament. It would be far less dangerous for one, and it would probably be over in half the time. Besides, few people he knew well were riding and a lot of fun was lost when he didn't even know who to root for.

Unfortunately, there was a greater purpose to the tournament, though Yuuri wouldn't be announcing_ that_ until it was over.

As he sat late that night in his pavilion erected on the grounds, Yuuri was given papers detailing the entries for the first round.

"Two mystery knights have entered the tournament," Greta said excitedly as she took a seat next to him. She was blossoming into a beautiful, young woman. She was in her mid-teens now and looked every inch a princess.

"_Two_?" said Yuuri, unable to hide the surprise from his voice. _There was only supposed to be one_. "Well I guess this will turn out to be interesting after all. Which shields are theirs?" Greta leaned over the paper and pointed.

"This one," she told him with a finger on a pink bearbee, "We're calling him the Bearbee Knight." She slid her finger over to a black heart with an arrow piercing it. "And this one we're calling the Lovesick Knight."

"Hmmm. Of all the things to put on a shield...a heart and a bearbee...what fearsome knights," Yuuri mumbled. He looked hard upon the heart shield. This was the knight that Yuuri had placed in the tournament on purpose. Once the games were at an end, Yuuri would have this knight unmasked and reveal to the crowd the purpose of the tournament. It was all planned out and no one, not even Gwendal and Gunter, knew about this secret and the rather large revelation that would come with it.

This other knight though, who'd taken the bearbee as his sigil, Yuuri did not know. A true mystery knight he was...a problem he was as well. No one entered could hope to defeat his Lovesick Knight...except perhaps this mystery man.

Yuuri pushed the paper aside. No, it would not come to that. Underneath his helmet, this unknown knight was probably just a green boy looking for a bit of glory...that or he was some peasant who who could sit a horse and hold a lance reasonably well, but wouldn't have been allowed to enter under his true name.

"Are you coming to bed soon, Yuuri? We have to be up early tomorrow." At sixteen, his daughter didn't share his bed any longer, but they usually stayed in the same room. Yuuri would still stubbornly insist on tucking his daughter into bed and occasionally on reading her stories. He didn't like seeing her grow up, and now with all these suitors around constantly begging her hand in marriage Yuuri liked to keep her close.

"Yeah, I guess it won't do to have the king nodding off in the middle of the tourney." They entered their sleeping tent with guards in their wake. Yuuri waved them off and blew out the candles in the room. He laid down in his bed and fell asleep with thoughts of Wolfram.

Morning came and Yuuri was given a hearty breakfast before being led to his seat in the grandstand. The first competitors would be mostly green knights...knights that Yuuri had never heard of before. There was some Berzen boy up against a knight from a lesser branch of Roshfall. Henri Berzen lost admirably, taking hard blows but never falling from his horse. Yuuri watched these first rounds with little interest. Nearly always the lesser knights lost to the knights from the larger houses. It wasn't until the Lovesick Knight took up his lance that Yuuri leaned forward and studied hard.

Black armor covered this knight from head to toe, heavy plate with a mask almost completely concealing the face. It was of an expensive make, Yuuri's own armorers could do no better, but it was what he expected.

The knight reined in his horse in front of where Yuuri was seated and looked up. The crowd held its breath and waited for him to speak.

"I will ride for you, my king. Make me your champion."

_Just as rehearsed..._Yuuri thought..._But you don't have to sound so bored. At least put some effort into it._

"But I don't even know your face, Sir. How do I know you are worthy to become my champion?" Yuuri called down. The crowed snickered.

"I have loved you ever since I laid eyes on you. I beg your token so that I may win the tournament in your honor. Perhaps I will win your love as well."

Even Conrad and Gunter were speechless. They had not expected a mystery knight to be so bold. Yuuri glanced over to them and pretended to contemplate briefly.

"No knight has ever attempted to win my love in such a way," Yuuri laughed, "I find it quite refreshing." Then, he stood up quite suddenly and jumped from the stands. The crowd hushed. For all to see, Yuuri tore off the right sleeve of his shirt and approached the knight. "Very well, Sir," Yuuri said loudly. He reached up and tied the black material around black armor on the knight's arm. "You are now the king's champion."

Yuuri smiled. After remaining unwed for all of these years he, himself, had gathered an army of suitors -men and woman both foreign and domestic tirelessly chasing the queenship. The most prominent of them he had invited to this tournament and seated in the grandstand with him. He could feel their icy stares upon his back as they tittered angrily. With this action he had displeased a great number of them. Yuuri ignored them all and returned to his seat.

"You're Majesty!" Gunter hissed in his ear, "That was ill-done. You were supposed to make the Wincott boy your champion!" Yuuri settled back into his chair. Conrad kept his distance but his brown eyes studied his king hard as if searching for the truth. Yuuri could hear the words clearly as if Conrad had spoken them.

"_I hope you know what you're doing, Yuuri."_

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

A/N: My reviewers, who art in this fandom. Hallowed be thy name. Thy updates come. Thy words be spell-checked, on fics as they are on term papers. Give me this day much helpful feedback, and forgive me my long absences, as we forgive those who constantly have writer's block. And lead me not into frustration, but deliver me from plot holes. Amen.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: sorry if my jousting lingo isn't perfect. All i know i learned from either "A Knight's Tale" or George R. R. Martin's books.

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

"I didn't think I'd be seeing you here, little brother."

Dieter paused, halfway dismounted with his foot still in the stirrup when he heard that voice. He dropped to the ground and let his squire lead his horse from the lists. Only then did he remove his helmet and turn to face his visitor. Visitors.

"Markus, Nikki," Dieter greeted, "My brothers. Come to congratulate me on my win?"

"Aye, if winning against a Roshfall can be called winning at all," Nikolaus snickered. Broad, muscular and foul-mouthed, the eldest Raford son never missed a chance to taunt his younger siblings. "You'd be better off shoving that lance up your slut of a husband's arse." Dieter bristled, his face going pink.

"Watch it!" he spat. Now that he was married to Wolfram, he would no longer tolerate any slander. It made him look bad as well.

"Now, now," the second brother stepped in calmly. He was thinner and taller than the rest of them, marginally more handsome than others of their bloodline, with an eternal smirk on his face that said he was better than you. "We didn't come here to fight, Dee." Markus was the only one of the three of them that was not married. It wasn't exactly a secret, however, that his eye was on the throne, and the past few years he had spent at court, attempting to woo the king. From his attire, it also seemed that he was the only one of them that wasn't participating in the tourney.

"Then make it quick, brother. I've got armor that must be fixed before my next match," Dieter told them.

"I come with a message from father. If you are able to beat your next opponent then you will have to face Nikki. If that happens, father says you must lose. He says it would look bad to have his heir defeated by his third son."

Dieter scowled. His whole life he'd been told that he'd never get anywhere, that he'd never hold his father's lands, and that the only way to make a name for himself was to become a great knight and distinguish himself in battle. Everything changed when his father arranged his marriage to Wolfram. He had a solid position now and he was beginning to see that Nikki was rather incompetent. With these new _opportunities_, perhaps the Radford castle and its lands would become his after all.

"Why did you bother to show up here in the first place? Father says you should be home doing something useful," Nikki said, leaning on his sword, grinning, "like getting your husband with child. If you're not up to the task, I could always do it for you. He'll spread his legs for anyone, won't he?"

"You'll never fuck Wolfram. He is mine, and slut or not, he's a damn sight nicer than your own cow of a wife. However, you are welcome to think of him while you console yourself with your hand," Dieter responded angrily. It was Nikki's turn to scowl.

Dieter could not help his frustration. This tournament was supposed to be his victory! His glory! Nikki wasn't supposed to make it this far. How could father do this to him? If he disobeyed and beat his brother, he'd upset his father and ruin his purpose for being here.

"Fine. You'll have your victory." Dieter decided, "I'll withdraw and return home to the sweet embrace of my husband. Perhaps then we can all be happy."

"A wise move, brother," Markus said as Dieter turned and walked away.

He was still fuming when he reached the smith and handed in his dented plate along with a few gold coins, so when he found himself face-to-face with King Yuuri and his squadron of guards, he wasn't ready to spare the effort of politeness. His bow was shallow and nearly insulting.

"Wolfram may be a treasure," Yuuri began coldly, "but that doesn't mean he should be kept in a vault at all times."

"Excuse me, Your Majesty," Dieter said nothing more than that before taking his leave. Any other day he wouldn't have dared, but His Majesty couldn't possibly hate him more than he already did. A few feet away he heard Sir Von Christ mutter something about his insolence. Yuuri said nothing, but Dieter felt the angry stare upon his back.

Later in the day, Dieter returned to the lists, fully armored, and now worked into a rage. He hurled insults at his squire for his tardiness. Getting into the saddle, he let the boy hand him his lance.

"Good luck, sir," the boy told him with a sickly innocent smile.

"I don't need luck. Win or lose this round, I'm out of the tournament either way," Dieter spat bitterly. He slammed down his visor and spurred his stallion forward. He knew he should just drop out now. There wasn't even any point to this round.

Dieter had never been all that interested in the joust, though he did seem to have some talent for it. The only reason he'd joined the team at the academy was because Wolfram had been on it...he'd been a Prince back then and everyone in the school wanted to be his friend, despite his rotten personality...

But now that Dieter was staring his opponent down from the other end of the lists, he felt that old spirit of competition returning. He was to face one of the mystery knights. The Bearbee knight. Suddenly he had a reason to win again. If he could defeat this knight he would have the pleasure of unmasking him in front of the crowd.

Dieter smiled beneath his helmet. Perhaps he could still gain the recognition he came here for. He pushed his horse into a gallop.

He soon found they were quite evenly matched. The score became tied and each of them moved in position for the final lance. The crowd taunted and jeered in their excitement. Dieter noticed the Bearbee knight slip him the finger. They dug their spurs into their horses' lathered sides and everything seemed to go in slow motion. They came in contact with one another- or rather, his opponent's lance missed his helmet by a few measly inches and his own lance struck his opponent's right shoulder hard and splintered.

That was it. Dieter blinked. It was over. He had won. The crowd cheered and booed him depending on where they had placed their bets. He stopped his horse and spun around, excitement gripping him. He saw that the other knight had fallen from his horse. A large splinter was lodged between his chest and shoulder plates and he writhed on the ground, perhaps in a terrible amount of pain. These things sometimes happened. Dieter watched as he pulled the wood from his chest with shaking hands and blood flowed from the wound. A stretcher was already arriving for him, but first, Dieter would have the honor of removing his helmet.

"Stop!" the king called from his grandstand. His face did not look happy. A hush fell over the crowd as the king spoke a few sentances to the judge. Then Dieter heard the words he had been dreading.

"Disqualification on the grounds of unchivalrous conduct! Victory goes to the Bearbee Knight!"

The King and Dieter locked gazes and became clear that Yuuri was doing this just to spite him.

"So this is how it's going to be, is it?" Dieter whispered to himself.

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

Yuuri judged the man's reaction from his seat, his arms crossed and a satisfied smile on his face. Dieter stormed furiously from the lists, robbed of any honor or glory he might have taken home. Yuuri knew he shouldn't have done that. The joust had been fair. Dieter had won. But Yuuri simply could not get over this childish hatred for the man. He'd taken Wolfram from him and now was refusing to bring him to the castle. Yuuri wanted nothing more than to make his life hell.

It had been a tough call. This Bearbee Knight was an excellent jouster who'd smashed his competition in every match until this one. Letting him advance this round would put him in the semi finals and if he should win again, he would go up against Yuuri's Lovesick Knight for the championship. But of course he'd just been badly wounded. He would lose in the next round.

With so few knights left in the tournament, things were moving much more quickly. By the end of the day the Bearbee Knight took up his lance once more and defeated the other Radford son against all odds. As he trotted off the field, Yuuri noticed the man swaying in the saddle. If there was going to be a proper match tomorrow the knight would need his wound tended to.

Yuuri summoned Giesela.

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

Wolfram made it back to the sorry tent he had pitched on the far edge of the grounds. He had taken one of his uncle's stable boys to squire for him, but had warned the boy to stay out of sight as much as possible, just in case he was recognized. Wolfram dropped his bearbee shield onto the dirt and had the boy help him with the rest of his armor. He managed to tie and feed his horse, but not much else before collapsing onto his bedroll. His right arm had become nearly useless by now and every time he attempted to move it, he triggered a searing pain from his chest wound. He'd come this far, and yet there was no possible way he'd be able to defeat that other knight tomorrow and claim the championship.

"Goddamn Yuuri!" Wolfram cussed furiously, "Why do I do these stupid things for you!" He rolled onto his side, holding his poorly bandaged chest until the pain ebbed, "Goddamn husband," Wolfram added when he remembered who was responsible for his injury. Perhaps it was for the best. When this charade was over, Dieter would be taken with guilt and pity and perhaps spare him some punishment for entering the tourney.

Wolfram fell into a light, feverish sleep, unable to move or stay comfortable with his chest aching so horribly. He dreamt of Yuuri...of hearing his voice call out to him, when he realized that he was not dreaming. Someone was outside his tent.

"Sir knight, are you awake?"

"I am," Wolfram replied hoarsely, remembering just in time to make his voice sound unrecognizable while struggling to hide his nakedness with his blanket, "May I ask who is intruding upon my sleep?" He reached for the helmet at his bedside.

"Your king," Yuuri's voice answered, "You did well today, Sir knight. I have brought you my finest healer to see to your injury. Allow her to look after you. She will not reveal your face to anyone. You have my word."

Wolfram smiled to himself. He'd missed that voice. He wanted to burst out of his tent right now and tackle the man to the ground, hold him in a fierce embrace and call him a cheater and a wimp like he used to...so long ago.

"My king is most noble and gracious," Wolfram accepted, "And my injury is far too great to turn down such a kind offer."

Giesela swept into his tent and stood paralyzed when she looked upon his face. She quickly got over her shock and went to him. Her eyes said that she was not pleased and she ripped off his blood-soaked bandages with little mercy. Wolfram hissed in pain.

"What do you think you are doing here, Your Excellency?" she whispered furiously, "This is going to cause quite the scandal once you take off your helmet. Your own husband's lance..." Wolfram only grit his teeth in response. "His Majesty would be beside himself if he saw you like this."

Wolfram's eyes began to droop as the Giesela's healing powers closed his wound and eased his pain. She moved on to the rest of his body, tending to his scrapes and bruises. His eyes shot open again when her hands moved down towards more sensitive parts of his body.

"Hey!" he protested, but she pulled the blanket off of him anyway to search him. A look of worry crossed her face when she examined his nether regions.

"Have you lain with anyone recently?" her hand moved over his lower abdomen.

"Only my husband," Wolfram answered, a blush rising to his cheeks as he realized her train of thought, "But I take the potion every time."

"Perhaps you forgot once," she replied, "because you are most certainly with child."

It was as if someone had slapped him across the face.

"What?" Wolfram sat up with some difficulty and inspected himself, his left hand running over his flat belly, "No. It's not possible. I've been so careful." He couldn't feel anything. Perhaps she was lying to him. She placed her hand over his in an effort to calm him.

"It's still early, Wolfram. At this stage it is very easy to miscarry. You've put yourself at great risk riding in the tournament...and now with your injury...you are lucky the child has not been harmed."

"Lucky?" Wolfram asked, "Lucky?" he let out a short bark of laughter, "Dieter's lance should have pierced my heart. That would have been lucky. I don't _want_ to have his child!" he said with despair. Giesela looked at him sadly. She'd known him since he was a baby and had always looked after him.

"Forfeit the match tomorrow," she advised, "Your body can't take another beating."

"No!" Wolfram growled in reply, "I _will_ ride tomorrow! Most likely I will lose, but at least I will keep my honor. If it costs me this child then all the better. It will cause my husband twice the grief."

"You could die," Giesela reminded him quietly, "A miscarriage is dangerous. You could bleed to death inside and there would be nothing I could do to help you."

"Thrice the grief," Wolfram answered stubbornly. Giesela gathered her supplies and stood.

"I cannot tell you what to do, Your Excellency," she said, "But I beg you to think about the rest of us who care about you and who would not want to see you hurt or dead."

"Thank you, Giesela," Wolfram said, already laying back down under the blankets. Giesela left his tent and Wolfram found himself alone with the silence once more.

Dawn broke much quicker than expected. Wolfram had hardly slept the night and his eyes were red and swollen with fatigue when he finally stumbled out of his tent. His right side was so sore that putting on his armor took twice as long as it should have. His squire was forced to do everything else, even fetch his food and water.

Getting into the saddle was excruciating, the ride to the lists even more so. The crowd swelled around him, cheering as he rode. A peasant woman showered him with petals when he passed her. People chanted his alias. Across the field, he caught sight of his opponent moving into position.

Somewhere in the din of noise their arrivals were heralded and the start of the championship round was announced and he felt the lance placed in his hand.

Wolfram barely paid attention. His eyes focused on two petals that had fallen into his lap. He knew the flowers they had been plucked from. One had once been part of a beautiful Wolfram and overlapping it...was the petal of a Yuuri's naivete.

Wolfram's heart seemed to stop for a moment as he remembered...

The old herbal remedy used to prevent pregnancy was only effective if it was taken within a couple days after intercourse. Wolfram had been careful to take his potion every morning after laying with his husband...

...but he hadn't thought to take it after that one night with Yuuri.

Tears came unbidden to his eyes and he was flooded with relief. He was carrying Yuuri's child. _Yuuri's_. Not Dieter's. He had to tell him...tell Yuuri that he loved him and that he was having their child. This silly tournament didn't matter any more.

But it was too late. The Lovesick Knight had already surged forward and was coming at Wolfram with his horse at a full gallop. Wolfram's own horse responded, trained to know he must run as well. Wolfram dropped his lance and snatched up the reins to yank on the bit, but it was futile. He had enough time to look up and watch as his opponent's lance made contact with his right shoulder. The pain was blinding and the impact nearly threw him from the saddle. Wolfram fought to keep his seat and his consciousness as his vision swam before his eyes. He managed to pulled his horse to a clumsy stop in the middle of the field.

"I forfeit!" Wolfram shouted with what voice he could muster. The noise from the crowd was deafening at his announcement, but Wolfram was beyond caring. He dismounted and found his legs were shaking too badly to support him. He fell onto his hands and knees, panting.

"The winner is declared! The tournament goes to the king's champion, the Lovesick Knight!"

More noise from the crowd. Wolfram wasn't sure what he should be feeling right now. Worried? Relieved? The sound of spurs clinking drew his attention and he was suddenly staring at a pair of black armored legs. The other knight hoisted him to his feet and forced Wolfram to face all who were in the stands. The helmet was pulled from his head and his golden hair tumbled out over his face and down to his shoulders.

"Wolfram...Von Bielefeld?" the knight beside him gasped in disbelief.

"Wolfram Von Radford," Wolfram corrected bitterly. He was led off the field while the people jeered and murmured at his loss. Wolfram glanced at Yuuri who was high up in the grandstand. The king had stood and his eyes were wide with shock. His mouth hung open. He must have never suspected, even when Wolfram so obviously put a bearbee on his shield. His Yuuri...so painfully oblivious. Wolfram wanted to kiss those lips shut and reprimand him for being so dense.

Once the lists were clear, the king came down to present the prize to his champion.

"Sir Knight," he said loudly, and the crowd hushed once again, "Please remove your helmet so that I may give you your reward." The knight obeyed, reaching up to take off the cumbersome head protection. Long, golden brown hair flowed forth and a familiar face emerged, one that Wolfram had known since childhood. The knight was a woman. And she bowed deeply to Yuuri.

"The only thing in the world that I desire is your love, Your Majesty."

"Then you shall have it," Yuuri responded, "Rise, Lady Elizabeth." She did so, and when she stood facing her king, Yuuri slapped her hard on her left cheek. Then he placed a golden crown upon her head, the tourney prize, and pulled her in for a long kiss.

The crowd went wild and Wolfram's world went black.

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

A/N: Hmmm...Yuuri what are you up to?

For those of you who keep asking me about _Tainted_...eh...It's been so long I don't really remember how I planned to end it. If I write the final chapter(s) and they don't turn out well would you be angry? QQ


End file.
